


Stardust

by Vetashad



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, M/M, Mentioned Semi Eita, Runner Tendou, Tendou Satori Needs a Hug, it's never going away, yes that's my own tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28590147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vetashad/pseuds/Vetashad
Summary: At the end of the hallway, Satori halted. On his left was another dorm—someone Satori didn’t know—on his right, a door with a sign proclaiming a maintenance stairwell. But ahead of him, was a window. Satori closed the distance after a moment’s consideration, resting his forehead against the cool glass.It was dark out; sunset had come and gone almost an hour earlier, and lights lining the paths of campus replaced daylight. Now, a tinge of deep purple banding the horizon was the only indication that the sun smiled down on the Earth during the day. Above the blush of purple, the sky gave way to velvety darkness studded with stars.Stars.It had been so long since Satori had looked up to the stars. He often had as a child, parting his curtains when he was supposed to be fast asleep to peer through the light pollution to pick out the chips of light in the sky, constellations of celestial creatures galloping across the heavens. Satori had always thought them a comfort, definite security and a promise; as long as they shined, Satori could too.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 84





	Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY USHITEN DAY 2021!!!!!!
> 
> Only slightly late, but in my defense, it turned out waaaaay longer than expected
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!

Satori sighed dramatically from where he was lying on the floor reading, head propped in his hands. The manga—an issue he wanted Wakatoshi to read once he finished the one Satori had previously loaned him—sat open on the carpet between his elbows. Satori had already read it three times since its release, and by then, his eyes skimmed over the panels without collecting any meaning. He felt like he was just _waiting_ for something, _anything_ to happen, or for it to get late enough for curfew to force him into bed.

“Wakatoshi, I’m bored,” he announced, rolling over to lay spread-eagle on his back. He slid his fingers through the fibers of the carpet, grasping at the friction, eyes scouring the ceiling fruitlessly.

Wakatoshi, sitting on the lower bunk, flipped a page leisurely. “Then go to sleep.” Satori whined. Wakatoshi was the definition of one-track mind, and while that meant nothing could break his will, it also meant he didn’t understand when Satori felt like _this_ —floating aimlessly in the calm at the end of the day when all tasks were completed.

“I don’t wanna go to sleep.” Satori reached up, stretching his fingers up to catch the air. “I’ll just end up laying there and staring at the ceiling,” he dropped his arm on his chest, “like I am right now.”

Wakatoshi looked up at him slowly and raised his eyebrows seriously. “Close your eyes.”

Satori scrambled into an upright position, shooting Wakatoshi an exasperated look. “You’re not helping!” Wakatoshi shrugged in response. “I’m gonna go wander around,” Satori decided, getting to his feet. He tossed the manga he was reading onto the bed next to Wakatoshi. “Read this one when you finish. It’s an important issue.” Wakatoshi grunted his acknowledgement.

Satori didn’t bother putting shoes on, choosing instead to pad softly past door after door with bare feet. The carpet in the hall was rougher than the type in the rooms—short, coarse, and needing desperately to be vacuumed from what Satori could feel underfoot. But he ignored it.

He hesitated outside of Semi’s door for a moment, hand hovering above the knob, but he moved on. Semi would want to talk and Satori didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t want to hear about his latest crush or short-lived relationship. He walked past Hayato’s and Reon’s dorm, past his lab partner from Chemistry that he still traded the occasional message with, past the vending machine on the corner with a broken inner light, gliding like a ghost. Nothing felt right.

At the end of the hallway, Satori halted. On his left was another dorm—someone Satori didn’t know—on his right, a door with a sign proclaiming a maintenance stairwell. But ahead of him, was a window. Satori closed the distance after a moment’s consideration, resting his forehead against the cool glass.

It was dark out; sunset had come and gone almost an hour earlier, and lights lining the paths of campus replaced daylight. Now, a tinge of deep purple banding the horizon was the only indication that the sun smiled down on the Earth during the day. Above the blush of purple, the sky gave way to velvety darkness studded with stars.

_Stars._

It had been so long since Satori had looked up to the stars. He often had as a child, parting his curtains when he was supposed to be fast asleep to peer through the light pollution to pick out the chips of light in the sky, constellations of celestial creatures galloping across the heavens. Satori had always thought them a comfort, definite security and a promise; as long as they shined, Satori could too.

Satori turned, sizing up the maintenance door. He wanted a closer look. _Restricted. Students keep out_ , the sign read, bold red letters threatening Satori with, at most, detention. 

Satori grinned. “Sure thing,” he said, testing the handle. It wasn’t like Satori hadn’t broken a few minor rules exploring places he wasn’t supposed to be before; curiosity always got the best of him and he _needed_ to see what was behind those doors. This door was no different.

The handle, cold brushed steel, turned. Unlocked. Satori pushed it open an inch, holding his breath. No alarm. And he couldn’t hear anyone inside, either.

“Interesting,” Satori said quietly, and slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

The stairwell was dark, lit by a few dim, caged light bulbs, and, from the landing, stairs ran both up and down. Drifts of dust collected at the corners of the platform where Satori stood, and on the stairs, the lips protected by sheaths of curling rubber. Satori peered down the stairs heading lower, wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the chill. A red light glowed just out of sight, where the stairwell turned back on itself.

“Creepy,” Satori murmured. But he wanted to see the stars, and if he was right, the ascending stairs would take him to the roof.

Satori headed up, careful not to trip on the uneven rubber as he took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t have to go far, though, only whipping around one hairpin turn, before reaching another landing and another door. From the inside, it was painted in peeling black, and a sign hung on it: _Roof Access_.

Feeling justified, Satori took the handle. It was even colder than the other door’s, and scraped roughly, like it was seldom used, when Satori turned it experimentally, but it, too, was unlocked.

“All these doors are unlocked? Damn, the school _wants_ some creep to sneak in and kill us all in our sleep,” Satori whispered to himself, pulling it open.

Satori stepped out onto the roof, the texture of the concrete harsh under the soles of his feet. He supposed that it wouldn’t be _too_ bad if he were wearing shoes, but that wasn’t enough to stop Satori or send him back to get some. He shuffled to the center of the roof, and sat, cross-legged.

He tilted his head up, letting the crisp breeze play across his face. Without the barrier of glass and above the flood and halo of the lights, the sky was clearer. The purple on the horizon was fading quickly, the last dregs of light ducking away so fainter, farther stars were visible, peeking between brighter pinpricks. The sky was a spray of lights on a dark canvas, scattered carelessly in their abundance by gods long dead.

They were constant, dependable, an immutable fixture of the sky since the dawn of time, but so, so mysterious. But Satori felt closer to the stars above than he did to humanity below sometimes.

Satori spoke—to no one, to himself, to the stars, perhaps—letting the wind whisk his words away. “I would ask ‘what’s it like being a star,’ but I think I know. You’re isolated up there, lightyears and lightyears away from your closest neighbor. Are you lonely? Burning yourself out, surrounded on all sides by nothingness, forgotten again the instant you’re out of sight. I think I know what that feels like.” Satori balled his fists, clutching the fabric of his sweatshirt as his voice grew thick. “I wanna stand out, _be_ something, be _someone_ to _anyone_ . I try and I try, but I’m _nothing_. When I leave, my friends will forget me and Waka—” Satori’s voice broke, truth tearing from his throat when he never expected it, but he started again, mustering nothing more than a whisper. “Wakatoshi will forget me too, and I’ll fade away again.”

Tears tracked down Satori’s cheeks, dripping from his face to be flicked away by the wind. Maybe the wind was an agent of the stars, wiping Satori’s face clean, but he let the tears fall, searching among the stars for answers, reassurance, _anything_. Any proof or signal that Satori wasn’t alone.

But the stars twinkled on, the same as they ever would.

Satori dropped his face, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes, but the tears kept coming, hot and angry and desperate. Satori had felt _small_ before—as the child his parents never wanted, as the outcast unacceptable to peers and adults alike, as the _monster_ he knew he was, but he never felt as small as he did now, when he was certain, in his heart, he would lose the only people that had ever cared for him, when he knew he’d lose _Wakatoshi_ , and the stars looked down on him, cold and unfeeling and uncaring.

Satori wasn’t sure how long he cried, only that he was cold, shivering as the night chill cut through his sweatshirt, and that it was way past curfew when the tears finally ran dry.

He pushed himself up, the concrete dragging at his palms and feet, retracing his steps back across the roof, down the maintenance stairs, past silent doors in the darkened hallway, until he reached his own room. He had felt like a ghost before, but now he felt like something less—a memory, perhaps—unseen and unknown, footsteps making not even an echo.

Inside, Wakatoshi was already asleep on the bottom bunk, face smooth and unbothered in the sliver of moonlight seeping through the chink in the curtains. Satori’s throat tightened again, threatening a fresh round of tears.

But Wakatoshi didn’t stir as Satori collected his toothbrush and pajamas with shaking hands, or when he returned from the bathroom, climbing gingerly into the top bunk. Satori curled up, hugging his stuffed Gengar to his chest, and stared unseeingly at the wall, numb.

Satori blinked in the watery morning sunlight, cocooned securely in his blankets, awoken by the beeping of Wakatoshi’s morning alarm. Of all of his redeeming qualities, the volume Wakatoshi set his alarm at was _not_ one of them. He was a morning person, but only after being forced awake by the equivalent of a fire alarm from hell.

Satori sat up and yawned, his covers wrapped around his shoulders and warm, but the alarm persisted.

He waited.

It kept ringing.

Finally, “Toshi…turn that off,” Satori said, voice slow from sleep.

No response.

Satori sighed and shed his blankets, climbing down the ladder. He grabbed Wakatoshi’s phone, Wakatoshi himself still solidly asleep, and turned the alarm off to a welcome silence. But it looked like it was going to be _Satori_ waking him up.

Satori leaned over Wakatoshi, shaking his shoulder lightly. “Hey.” Wakatoshi grunted softly. Satori’s mouth quirked, and he shook him slightly more firmly. “Hey, wake _up_.”

Wakatoshi’s eyelids cracked open, squinting up at Satori. “Sa…tori?”

“Wakey wakey, big guy, don’t wanna be late for the morning run,” Satori singsonged, poking Wakatoshi in the cheek once for effect before turning away to dress.

It didn’t take long for Wakatoshi to wake fully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and joining Satori in getting ready.

“I…” Wakatoshi began. Satori turned to him curiously, cinching down the drawstring of his running shorts. It looked to Satori that Wakatoshi’s eyes flicked to his bare stomach for an instant, his shirt held up so he could see his knot, but Wakatoahi cleared his throat and continued. “I dreamed about you last night.”

Satori froze, then laughed. “What happened in the dream?”

“It…” Wakatoshi hesitated, brow furrowing.

“What was I doing?” Satori prompted him. His pauses made Satori raise an eyebrow, but maybe he was just trying to remember—Satori was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Wakatoshi hadn’t often strayed out of his particular brand of weird too much around Satori.

“It wasn’t much. I was in a meadow and you were there.”

“A meadow, huh?” Satori grinned. “That sounds fun!”

“It was…nice. And thank you for waking me up.” Wakatoshi’s eyes drilled into Satori. He was _definitely_ staring now, even though Satori had dropped his shirt moments earlier.

So far, the morning was turning out to be very strange indeed.

But Satori plastered on a lopsided grin. “Of course! Where would you be without me, Miracle Boy?”

* * *

During their run, Wakatoshi took off by himself after only half a mile, taking a side street. Satori watched him go, eyes hooded and lips pressed together tightly, as his back retreated, finally disappearing behind a corner.

Behind him, the rest of the group puffed along in a loose pack. Satori thrived where they struggled, and, usually, he led them with easy strides and smiling encouragement. But under the haze of the morning sun, dark claws left over from the night before gripped his heart, detaching him from his team.

He threw a look over his shoulder, then back ahead again. Ahead, an alley would take him to a parallel street in the opposite direction Wakatoshi took—away from the wandering questions of _meadows_ and expectations of responsibility to uphold.

But he had to make sure no one suspected _a thing_ first.

Satori dropped back a few paces and put on a winning smile. “Heeey, Taichi, you know the route, right?”

Taichi gave him a strange look. “Yeah, why? Did you forget it or something?”

Satori gasped dramatically. “You wound me, Taichi! How could you ask such a thing? I know routes you’ve never even seen!”

“Sure.”

“I was _asking_ because you, my dear kouhai, will be a third year very soon. Then,” Satori fixed Taichi with a serious look, “ _you’ll_ have to lead all the little first and second years that have no idea where they’re going on runs. And, to do that, you need to _know the routes_.”

“Oh. Yeah, I know where I’m going.” Taichi looked ahead, and from the look in his eyes, Satori could tell he was trying to remember when the next turn was coming up.

“Good.” Satori grinned, razor-sharp. “Then pick up the pace, get in the front, and _prove_ it.” Taichi stared at him, a deer in headlights. Satori’s grin widened. “Go on.”

Something in Taichi’s eyes steeled, his competitive spirit, the desire to _prove_ himself, kindled, and he picked up the pace, moving to the leader’s position, Satori’s usual spot, at point. When the moment was right, Satori could stoke those particular fires expertly.

Satori shuffled across the group, coming alongside Reon and Hayato. “Heyo, I told Taichi to lead, so like, make sure he doesn’t get us lost. I’m going to the back to annoy Semi into running faster.” Hayato roared with laughter, slapping Satori’s shoulder.

“Got it, Tendou. Enjoy yourself,” Reon responded, a twinkle of humor in his eyes.

Mentally, Satori dusted his hands. _That’s all taken care of._

So when Satori dropped back, it wasn’t to where Semi was cursing running. The alley he wanted to take was coming up, and with all his ducks in a row, he slipped off, feet thumping lightly on the narrow cobbled path.

Satori _did_ like his teammates, his _friends_ , but after the night before, he still didn’t feel like himself. He needed to be alone, let his mind wander in the wide-open focus running afforded him. Satori poured on the speed, taking a maze of turns he knew by heart, passing storefronts and shops catalogued as directional markers, past the apartment he grew up in and was damned to return to—as least for a short time—hopped a fence in another dingy alley populated by rusting skeletons of abandoned bikes, and reached a long stretch of road he always found himself on when he needed to think. It was long and flat and straight—except when it curved away to a neighborhood at the end where Satori always turned around—overall an easy run.

And Satori ran, into the brightening horizon, pushing his speed, heart pumping like it was going to burst and breaths coming ragged, but his mind was free. _He_ was free, from prying eyes and expectations and questions and the lies he told.

The lies he told that would one day ensure he was never wanted again.

But Satori didn’t need to feel wanted when he was running. He only needed to feel the blood rushing in his veins and the air pushed and pulled in his lungs, only the soles of his shoes beating the concrete and the wind on his face and whipping through his hair.

Maybe…maybe if Satori kept running forever, he would never feel—

His watch beeped sharply, flashing his pace. Satori glanced down at it and nearly choked. He clocked that last mile in at a little over five and a half minutes, meaning he had slipped into a track pace, too lost in thought to realize how fast he was going

But…Satori looked out over the street again, at the concrete expanse that was his for the taking, lined with trees and unlit street lights standing like sentinels, at the strengthening sunlight building to its zenith behind him, and pushed himself further.

Satori ran several more miles than the rest of the team, but he pushed into the locker room only a few minutes after them, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat but satisfied, having achieved some teetering acceptance of his loneliness.

“Hey,” he greeted the room breathlessly, “Taichi do okay? Everyone get back in one piece?”

“I almost got hit by a car!” Goshiki piped up as Satori sank to the ground to stretch.

“What?” Satori whipped his head to look at him, then at Reon, who opened his mouth to answer, but Shirabu interrupted.

“The little idiot was messing around and not paying attention to where he was going,” Shirabu explained, words clipped in annoyance. Goshiki spluttered.

“Yeah, it wasn’t my fault he was hanging out in the middle of the street.” Taichi added, toweling sweat out of his hair.

Satori shrugged. It didn’t seem that anyone had picked up on where he went, or if they did, they didn’t pry—just the way Satori liked it. “Fair enough. But don’t get hit by cars, okay, Tsutomu? It’s not very fun.”

Goshiki’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. “Have you been hit by a car before?”

“Not important.” Satori smiled innocently, relishing the awed look on Goshiki’s face before finishing up his stretches and heading to the shower to avoid being cornered by any overzealous kouhais.

* * *

Morning classes passed quickly, but the doubts Satori had managed to banish during his run were worming their way back into his thoughts, coiling around any logical center, feeding on the same interactions that had borne such a poison into Satori’s soul when he was just a child: sniggering in the hallways when he walked by, whispered insults when he spoke in class, invisible walls erected around him that left Satori forsaken. He did his best to build himself up, to cover up any indication of how deep those looks and insults bit, but after so long, it was a tired act. Satori no longer believed that if he kept saying it—saying he was the best or the greatest or a “Miracle Boy”—it would one day be true. 

The bell chimed, ripping Satori from his thoughts and signaling the beginning of his lunch period. He shook his head, as if that would clear his mind, and started packing up, barely noticing the bustle of the flood of people leaving the room. Midday sun shone, spilling golden across his desk and papers, but where it touched his hands, it made his skin look grey and sickly, bluish-purple veins snaking down his wrists and between shallow shadows cast by the ridges of his tendons and knuckles.

Everyone had left the classroom, including the teacher, Satori confirmed with a glance, leaving him alone. He snorted. _Typical_. But at least they wouldn’t stare when he lifted his hand to eye level, flexing his fingers methodically, turning his hand this way and that.

Satori blew out a breath, then addressed his pencil case. “Why doesn’t anyone tell me I look like a corpse half the time?” But, as expected, it didn’t respond. “And this is the second time in two days that I’m talking to myself. Either the loneliness is getting to me, or I’m actually going crazy.” Satori cocked his head. “Not that one is better than the other,” he finished with a shrug.

Satori slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to march off and endure the lunch hour, cafeteria seething with moving bodies and meaningless conversation, but paused. He knew after last night that there was a chance the maintenance doors leading to the roof might be unlocked, and he really wasn’t that hungry…

A scheming smile curled Satori’s lips, and when he headed out the door, he strode in the opposite direction.

It was more difficult finding a roof access door in the school’s main building than in the dorms, but Satori wouldn’t be Satori if he wasn’t persistent.

Persistent in his efforts to be alone, even if that was what he feared most, but persistent nonetheless. Satori wondered absently if he was developing self-destructive habits as he emerged onto the rooftop, shading his eyes against the sunlight. 

“Probably,” Satori answered himself, depositing his bag against the wall the door was set into and stripping out of his blazer. The area was wedge-shaped, the door and the wall rising behind Satori, a bank of air conditions on one side, and a point where the roof tapered off to a corner on the other side. A lip of concrete a couple inches high ran along the edge, where Satori chose to sit, dangling his legs.

Squinting in the light, Satori could see across the equestrian fields, the grass trimmed into even, parallel strips of organic emerald. Behind the stables on the far side of the field, he could see the track, the heat that had burned off the morning haze rising in shimmering waves. At lunch time, not a single soul moved on the fields or track.

It was a good haunt, Satori decided. The air conditioners were probably considered “unsightly,” so no windows anyone could see him through faced his new-found haven. It was a safe place to hide, a safe place for Satori to try to learn to accept he was moving into a new phase of life, without friends—and without Wakatoshi.

Satori had sat there only ten minutes, fidgeting with the end of his belt and watching birds wheeling on the thermals, dark blots against a cloudless sky, when he heard the door creak open behind him.

He whipped around, heart suddenly thumping against his ribs. If it was a repair guy coming to work on the A/C units, he was screwed—he technically wasn’t supposed to be up there. If it was a teacher, it would be detention for a month. If it was—

“Wakatoshi?” Satori asked, baffled. Wakatoshi stood at the door, his bag on his shoulder, a clump of napkins in his hands, and an expression that Satori could only peg as _relief_.

“There you are,” Wakatoshi said, letting the door close behind him.

Satori waved his hands, his fear abating, but a wave of confusion replaced it. “What do you mean ‘there you are’? What’s going on?”

Wakatoshi’s brow creased, and he didn’t answer for a moment as he tossed his bag alongside Satori’s and came to sit next to him on the lip, setting the balls of napkins between them. “You weren’t at lunch so I came looking for you,” Wakatoshi explained, busying himself with unwrapping the napkins to reveal a few pieces of breaded chicken, a lidded plastic cup of sauce, and a few other things from the lunch counter. “I knew which class you come from, so I started there and checked every door until I found you. And,” he looked up at Satori, “I brought you lunch.”

“You…?” Satori closed his mouth and stared at him. He didn’t know which part to question—the complete lack of surprise at the rooftop? Checking every door? Bringing him lunch? Looking for Satori at all?

Wakatoshi folded his hands in his lap and looked out over the view. To Satori, it looked like Wakatoshi was avoiding his eyes. “But really, I wanted to talk to you.”

Satori froze again, hand halfway to a piece of chicken. “Talk to me?” That sounded _bad_ —like it would result in a lot of things Satori didn’t want to think about. But Satori’s mind raced. Wakatoshi was about to drop something on him, something either crazy—like he was in a cult and he needed help getting out—or painful. Painful was the more likely prospect, but what would it be? That he never wanted to see Satori again, or that he thought Satori was annoying, or that he had gotten a girlfriend? The _girlfriend_ option would be damaging in more ways than one—Satori would have to pretend to be happy for him, all the while knowing he had lost the chance he could never take. He _really_ didn’t want—

“I like you, Satori,” he said, and Satori’s heart stopped. “I’ve liked you for a long time, actually, but I could never say it. I didn’t want to scare you away, but we’re so close to leaving now, and I didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore.” He dropped his gaze to his hands, a half-apologetic smile a ghost on his lips. He started again, his voice softer. “You mean the world to me, Satori.” 

Satori’s breath caught in his chest. He had always thought _he_ was the one harboring something hopeless, terrified of losing the one person that made him feel whole; that Satori was the one that loved much too deeply than he should.

“Wakatoshi, wait,” Satori whispered, but Wakatoshi plowed on, like he was afraid that if he stopped, all his words would stay trapped inside him forever. 

“And the sun and the sky and the stars and—” 

Light glimmered in Wakatoshi’s hair and on his face, highlighting him in gold, like an ancient portrait of a god anointed in holy oils. He was the incarnation of Amaterasu, or Ra, or Helios, or Apollo; he was the sun…but the sun was also a star, and if Satori was inextricably drawn to Wakatoshi, caught in his gravity, he wanted nothing more than to be a binary system.

Satori laid a hand over Wakatoshi’s, capturing his gaze. “I like you too.”

Wakatoshi’s eyes widened, flecks of gold illuminated in their depths, and he reached for Satori, a calloused hand moving to cup Satori’s jaw like he believed that the moment would flit away, carried on the breeze if he didn’t seize it.

“Can I…kiss you, Satori?” he asked, haltingly, like he was dreaming.

Satori giggled, then nodded, breathless with anticipation. And when their lips met, soft and cautious, Satori expected it to be electric—that was how it was always portrayed in books and manga—but instead, it felt like a warm blanket, a comforting hug, and stardust; like home and love and magic.

* * *

Satori tucked himself under Wakatoshi’s arm, snuggling against the warmth of his side as a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. It was the end of the day, when all his tasks were completed.

“So,” he started, a teasing lilt to his voice, “what did you _really_ dream about last night?”

Wakatoshi looked up from the manga Satori had loaned him, and chuckled. “A meadow. But mostly you,” he kissed Satori’s cheek, “ _kissing_ you.”

Satori smiled. “Is that why you were being so weird and staring at me this morning?”

Wakatoshi grimaced. “Maybe a little. But I just couldn’t help myself.” Satori laughed. In Wakatoshi’s arms, he would never be alone, just like the stars twinkling in plurality in the sky above.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!! Don't forget to comment and tell me what you think!! Comments 'n' kudos, literally the lifeblood of all fic writers...
> 
> Find me on Twitter at [@vetashad](https://twitter.com/vetashad) for updates and meaningless thoughts!! In fact, here's one now...
> 
> Tendou has the appearance of the moon and deposition of the sun, but Ushijima has the appearance of the sun and deposition of the moon...


End file.
